


So Sing Us A Song

by SisterLucrezia



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Asexual Sherlock Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2187081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterLucrezia/pseuds/SisterLucrezia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment of Sherlock and Greg's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Sing Us A Song

**Author's Note:**

> Exploring nonsexual forms of intimacy through fic is fun!
> 
> Title comes from the song "My Heart" by Paramore.

As soon as Greg set foot in 221b he tossed his jacket onto the nearest chair, toed off his shoes and collapsed onto the sofa. Sherlock strode calmly into the flat as if he hadn’t just chased a suspect across half of London. Greg was staring up at the ceiling, listening to Sherlock rummage through the kitchen for food.

"Tea, Sunshine?"

"Tea would be lovely, thank you Lestrade." Sherlock threw himself sideways into his chair and munched on his biscuits. Greg sighed and sat up. Three years together and the git still wouldn’t make his own damn tea. He went into the kitchen and went about filling the kettle and grabbing the mugs. Greg leaned on the counter and watched Sherlock eat while he waited for the water to boil. He took in the sight of him, the eyes that gleamed like silver, his mess of dark curls, the knot of his Adams Apple bouncing as he swallowed, the tendons of his hands shifting as he plucked another biscuit from the packet. He loved every part of him. 

Greg was pulled out of his thoughts by the click of the kettle. Once the tea was made he brought the mugs into the sitting room and put Sherlock’s on the table in front of him. He ran his fingers through the dark hair, still warm from the sun, as he passed on his way to the couch. Greg had just sat back down and sipped from his mug when Sherlock put the biscuits down and stood up rather suddenly.

Greg blinked. “Something wrong?” He asked. Sherlock said nothing, just walked over and sat on the floor next to Greg’s feet, his back against the couch. He leaned on the older man’s knee.

"Pet me like that again." Sherlock said. Greg smiled.

"Thought you’d never ask," Greg said as he started carding his fingers through Sherlock’s hair.

It was a form of affection that dated back to when Sherlock was trying to get clean. Greg would sit up with him late into the night, stroking his hair back as Sherlock shivered and sweat through his withdrawals. Neither man had a desire for sex, the times spent cuddling and touching each other being the only form of intimacy they needed.

Greg loved watching his beloved Sherlock relax and purr as he played with the soft hair, tracing along his hairline for a bit before gently scratching his scalp with his fingertips. He ran circular patterns over his head, watching Sherlock’s curls sift through his fingers. The only sounds within the flat were the rasping of Greg’s nails on Sherlock’s skull and both men’s relaxed breathing.

"Let’s get takeout tonight." Greg murmured softly. "How’s Indian sound?"

"Mm."

Greg smiled and caressed Sherlock’s cheek.


End file.
